


Loose Tongues

by celinamarniss



Series: Triumvirate [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Imperial AU, Imperial military culture, Mirror Sex, Multi, Sexism, Sexist Language, Sparring, Voyeurism, Xenophobia, authority kink, cheerful discussions of bodily harm, men being super gross, other warnings from the triumvirate series apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26675323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celinamarniss/pseuds/celinamarniss
Summary: “—don’t let Skywalker hear that!”Luke paused as his name caught his ear, his hand half raised to hang his black flight suit on a hook in his locker. He hadn’t been paying much attention to post-training chatter in the pilot’s lounge—until now.Luke lets a little gossip get under his skin, Mara and Thrawn distract him.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Mara Jade/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Series: Triumvirate [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1494842
Comments: 19
Kudos: 26





	Loose Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, all credit goes to JediMordSith and evilmouse for egging me on and holding my hand through the process. evilmouse is my Cheunh expert, and JediMordSith made major improvements to many of my sentences.

“—don’t let Skywalker hear that!” 

Luke paused as his name caught his ear, his hand half raised to hang his black flight suit on a hook in his locker. He hadn’t been paying much attention to post-training chatter in the pilot’s lounge—until now. 

“He’s not still here, is he?” Sobti’s question had the half-hushed tone of someone wary of being overheard. 

“Nah, I saw him leave earlier.” Haskar’s voice, loud and brusque, was unmistakable. 

Luke was hidden from view between the rows of lockers on the far end of the lounge. He’d already showered and changed, and was planning to head back to his quarters, but the conversation taking place on the other side of the lockers drew his attention. 

Torno said something he couldn’t quite make out, and Haskar laughed. “Yeah, I believe it.” 

Malki muttered, a rumble so soft that Luke could barely hear it, "I heard she tried to order Felucian chocolate on the last supply run, the spoiled bitch." 

"That's a waste,” Torno said. “You'd think between the two of them there'd be more than enough to go around if she needs something in her mouth." 

Haskar barked a laugh. 

"I think the Admiral's too easy on her.” Malki, again, low and sullen. “Bakristin told me Chiss treat their women like glass. She's forgotten what it's like to earn her keep. Just laying around like a pampered rugger every day." 

“Malki, man, that’s out of line—” Sobti protested. 

“They’re both sitting pretty _now,”_ Haskar said, “but if something happens to Thrawn—you know.” 

They all knew. The dangers of war—of a campaign gone very wrong, or an assassination—stacked on one side, and the Emperor’s mercurial temper on the other, not to mention the politicians and courtiers just waiting for Thrawn to make the wrong move. Nothing in the universe was certain. 

“Luke’ll be alright,” Sobti said. “He’s still a prince, isn’t he?” 

“Yeah, sure. But Thrawn’s pet will be back to whoring in no time.” Luke could hear the leer in Torno’s voice. “She’ll be right hungry for a real man after living off blue sausage for all that time.” 

Laughter rang around the room. He felt his cheeks flame, a hollow ringing in his ears nearly drowning out the next lewd comment. 

“Like you’d ever be able to afford a high-class trick like her,” Sobti scoffed in reply. 

“No, no—I heard she’ll suck off officers for the right price, so—” 

Luke gripped the edge of the locker until it bit into his hands. He couldn’t reveal himself and make Torno and the others pay for their words. Back on Naboo, he’d been trained to ignore any sort of gossip about his loved ones. It had been necessary. He’d been very young—perhaps six—when a distant cousin told him his mother had won her throne on her knees, and although he hadn’t understood the innuendo then, he’d known it was an insult. Worse stories could be found on the holonet, obscene slander about his mother and sister, which had been accessible to him as soon as he was old enough to have his own holonet account. The filth that people thought up to satisfy their own petty urges wasn’t worth losing one’s temper, his mother told him. 

“Sergeant Torno, surely you didn’t say what I thought you just said?” 

Commander Fel had entered the lounge and his voice cut through any lingering conversation, which died to nothing at his words. There was a short silence, followed by the shuffling of bodies coming to attention, with mumbled apologies and _no, sirs, yes, sirs,_ as Fel berated his troops. 

Luke closed his locker quietly. There was a door on the far side of the locker banks, and it would barely take any effort to slip out the back unnoticed; a simple mind trick to divert the attention of anyone who crossed his path on the way through the _Chimaera._

Thrawn’s office was empty, as were the adjoining library and war room. Luke ran his hand along the top of Thrawn’s desk as he passed it, a dozen erotic images flickering through his mind. His memories and Mara’s memories, shared through their link. They took it in turns to satisfy their keeper on long days spent pouring over strategy reports, and it was a duty they both enjoyed. Luke lingered over a particular image of Mara bent over the desk, breasts pressed to the cool orowood surface, mouth ajar as Thrawn thrust into her. 

Queen Mother Amidala of Naboo sent monthly petitions to the Emperor for the return of her son; Darth Vader only waited on the Emperor’s word to retrieve him from the _Chimaera_. But Mara—no one would claim Mara. She would be snatched up by her former master, returned to a life of frantic scrabbling for meager Court favors that put her in direct contact with men and women who had abused and even raped her. Or perhaps given away to the next brutal warlord who won a victory in the Empire’s name. 

If Palpatine didn’t kill her outright. 

Luke doubted if there was anything he could do. Even if his status and title were returned to him, the best outcome he could imagine is that he might eventually claim her as his own companion—but he didn’t think that the Emperor would be inclined to approve his ownership. Gifting his Hand—stripping her of her titles and turning her into a companion—had been proof enough of her master’s disregard for her wellbeing. 

There was a faint tug at the edge of his senses that drew him past the library to Thrawn’s private dojo. When the door slid aside, he found both his lovers sparring on the mats in the center of the room. They both wore soft, loose exercise pants; Thrawn was in his undershirt and Mara a tightly fitted, cropped fitness top. A deactivated training droid stood in the far corner, and the mirrored wall the Mara used when she danced was covered by panels, implying that Thrawn had been working out in the dojo alone before Mara had joined him. 

Luke let the door slide shut behind him and pulled off his boots and belt, leaving them in the cubby by the door. He skirted the edge of the dojo until he reached the middle of the long wall and leaned back against it to watch Thrawn and Mara. There was no question that Thrawn was stronger and larger than Mara, with decades of combat training, but Mara was fast and light on her feet, and quick to take any advantage in a hand to hand match. She could also be relentless, pushing herself beyond her own limits if she felt she had something to prove. Thrawn already had a reddish-purple mark across his cheekbone, which was no doubt Mara’s handwork. 

Mara skipped backward, out of Thrawn’s reach, casting a quick glance in Luke’s direction. “What’s wrong? Something’s bothering you.” 

Luke shrugged, his shoulders sliding up and down against the wooden wall panels. “It’s nothing. It’s just…” 

Thrawn used Mara’s divided attention to attack. He burst into motion, throwing a punch that Mara narrowly avoided, ducking to the side. She pivoted on her heel, slamming her back into his chest and jabbing an elbow into his ribs. As he buckled forward, he wrapped an arm around her waist. She slithered out of his hold, dropping toward the ground. Before he had time to recover, she shot to her feet again, aiming a kick at his side. But she was too close for the maneuver to work. He snatched at her leg as her knee connected to his hip and yanked, dumping her to the ground. He could be quick, too. 

Whatever Luke had planned to say next was forgotten, his mouth still half-open as he stared. They were both captivating in motion. Through the thin material of his undershirt, Luke could see the muscles of Thrawn’s back shift under the hard line of his shoulders as he lunged for Mara, sprawled on the ground—but before he could reach her she’d scrambled up again, eyes bright, dancing out of range. 

Luke wet his lips. “Just some gossip in the pilot’s lounge. I shouldn't have let it get under my skin.” 

Mara frowned. “What did they say?” She had her eyes on Thrawn as they circled each other warily, tensed and ready to spring into action. 

“Oh, I don’t know.” Luke hedged, hesitating for a moment before he continued. “Speculating what it would cost them to spend a night with you.” 

Mara laughed; a short, dismissive bark. “Is that all they ever talk about? Someone needs to teach them the difference between a prostitute and an Officer’s Companion. Was that all?” 

“I’m not going to repeat what they wanted to do once they paid,” Luke said, shaking his head. “It was vulgar.” 

“Unimaginative, no doubt.” Mara guessed with a snort. 

“And yet it troubled you,” Thrawn said. 

Luke shrugged again. “I just thought it would be different...once I’d earned their trust. It doesn’t matter.” 

“If it bothered you, it does matter—” Mara began heatedly, but broke off halfway through her sentence to swing at Thrawn, a series of swift strikes he blocked with his forearms. As she moved close, he leaned his weight on his arms, pushing her backward. She stumbled back a step and he grabbed her right wrist, wrenching it up and behind her. 

Pinioning her wrist against his chest with his right hand, he caught her shoulder with his free hand and shoved, twisting her chest down and forcing her to her knees, locking her in place. Panting, Mara tapped the floor with her unrestrained hand. Thrawn released her and stepped back. 

The circling began again. Luke shifted; the room was beginning to feel overly warm. 

“We can’t let them get away with speaking to you like that. Who was it? That Corellian pilot?” She flashed a sly grin in Thrawn’s direction. “Thrawn can take care of him.” 

“No, no one needs to do anything—” 

“I can’t start executing my men for slander,” Thrawn said with a cocked eyebrow. 

“I didn’t say execute—” Mara began. 

Before she could elaborate, Thrawn whipped an arm out to grapple her, but Mara ducked, her foot lashing out as she slid past him, driving her heel into the back of his knee. Thrawn crumpled to the ground. He only just managed to roll onto his back when Mara lept on him, pinning him to the ground with a knee to his stomach and her forearm across his neck. 

Thrawn tapped the floor and Mara straightened, still straddling him. Luke swallowed, his mouth unexpectedly dry. 

“There are more creative punishments,” she continued. “If I were at Court, I’d slip an Eriadu adder into his bed. Their venom causes erratic paralysis—like narcolepsy. It’s a permanent condition.” She swung off of Thrawn and stood in a single lithe movement, well out of his reach. 

“An effective way to humiliate your enemies,” Thrawn said, pulling himself to his feet more slowly. 

She met his eyes. “All you have to do is ask.” 

With the speed of an adder, Thrawn darted forward before Mara could react. He whipped out a hand, hooked it behind her knee, and in a move similar to the one he’d pulled earlier, spilled her to the floor. She landed on her back with a grunt. In an instant, he was on top of her, pressing his hips into hers to prevent her from throwing him off. Arms braced on either side of her body, he dropped his head and claimed her mouth. 

Luke sucked in a sharp breath, transfixed by the line of Thrawn’s jaw as he kissed Mara fiercely. Mara met him with equal hunger. Her arms lay limp by her head, her hands flexing and curling, as if she were holding back the urge to cling to him. A smothered moan trailed into a gasp as Thrawn broke the kiss. He lifted his head slowly, pinning Luke to the wall with his gaze. His eyes had gone a dark molten red. 

Mara made a soft sound—a barely audible whimper—and Luke could see her hips straining to thrust up against the weight Thrawn was bearing down on her. Without breaking eye contact, Thrawn lowered his head to whisper in Mara’s ear, before lifting himself to his feet and stalking toward Luke with the coiled grace of a predator. His shirt had rucked up when he pinned Mara to the floor and Luke’s eyes caught on the curve of his hipbones rising above the waist of his pants. A sheen of sweat gleamed on his skin, and his familiar scent was sharp under the tang of perspiration. 

His hands moved to Luke’s hips, his grip firm and proprietary, in a way that always stirred something in Luke. Thrawn kissed him like he was still sparring, giving Luke no choice but to rise to the challenge. His back hit the wall with a dull thump. “Kriff,” he groaned, a little breathlessly, and Thrawn’s chuckle rumbled through him. 

He was already straining against his pants, pressing into Thrawn’s thigh for some small measure of relief. He could feel Thrawn’s cock hardening against him through the thin fabric of his pants and it made Luke groan again. 

Luke heard the click and rattle of the wooden panels on the far wall sliding along their tracks and retracting into the wall on either side. When he looked over Thrawn’s shoulder he could see his reflection, half covered by the bulk of Thrawn’s body, in the mirrored wall that had been hidden behind the panels. 

Mara stepped away from the control panel in the corner, her expression that of a loth cat basking smugly in a pool of sunshine. As she crossed the dojo, she stripped off her top and tossed it to the side. Her chest was flushed a deep pink, exertion and arousal written on her skin. Turning her back to the mirror, she faced them, hooking her fingers into the waistband of her pants and basics and stripping them away as well. Luke was torn between watching her directly and the seductive twinning of her movements in the mirror behind her. 

Thrawn let off mouthing along Luke's neck to speak, the deep timbre of his voice stroking against Luke’s ear. “Show me what those men will never experience in their small lives.” 

_What? What men?_ All thoughts of the pilots’ gossip had scattered from his head, as Thrawn no doubt intended, and he stared at Thrawn for a moment until the order began to make sense. 

“Yes,” he said, the word coming out in a rough exhale. Thrawn stepped aside and Luke moved toward Mara like a magnetic current was dragging him forward. 

_No one else got to see this—no one—not anymore._ Mara licked against his mouth, opening for him eagerly. A hot, possessive feeling pulsed through him before he thought to check himself. He couldn’t claim that right—it would always be Thrawn’s decision how they served him, and if he wanted to put either of them on display, or even whore them out to his pilots or officers—that was his choice, not Luke’s. 

Or if Thrawn died, as the pilots had speculated, and Palpatine decided to overturn whatever provisions their keeper left for his companions— 

A bright spark of pain cut off his line of thought as Mara bit into his lip. From the smirk curled at the corner of her mouth, he knew it had been deliberate. A distraction. She tugged impatiently at the edge of his shirt, and in a matter of moments, his clothes joined hers, strewn across the dojo floor. 

He pulled her toward him but she squirmed out of his grasp and turned toward the mirror, bending at the waist and pressing her hands to the cool surface to brace herself. Her ass shoved back into his groin, and he groaned, hands flying up to grab her hips, fingers digging in to hold her in place. 

Mara moaned, a long, drawn-out keen, her head falling forward as he pushed into her. The sound sent a punch of arousal through him, and he paused at the tight, hot feel of her, his body bowing over hers. He pressed his forehead between her shoulders for a long moment before taking a breath, straightening, and beginning to move. 

Mara’s head still hung down, and Luke reached for her, fingers weaving into the braid at the base of her neck. With a short tug, he pulled her head up again. She gasped, her eyes wide in the mirror, pupils blown. He didn’t have to tell her to keep her eyes up; she knew the rules. He kept his fingers tangled in her hair as he drove into her, enjoying the way it made shudder, her mouth gaping and her body clenching around him. She kept her eyes open as he fucked her, fixed on their reflections. 

In the mirror, he could see Thrawn prowling back and forth behind them, as if he couldn't settle on the perfect angle. Once again, Luke was reminded of a lean predator stalking its prey, and heat prickled up his neck. His cock jerk and Mara made a pleased sound. 

He tried to draw out the performance, but Mara met his eyes in the mirror. “Touch me,” she begged, her entire body shaking with each thrust. Letting go of her hair with one final tug that made her eyes flare, he stroked his hand down her back, traveling over damp skin along her side, her hip, and then between her legs. 

A few rough strokes to her clit and Mara came hard and fast, her cunt seizing around him and her shriek ringing in his ears. It was impossible to hold back. He managed a few more sloppy thrusts before his climax broke over him in a bright flash. 

Mara sagged forward, panting, her forearms slapping against the mirror. Luke caught her—fumbling a little, his limbs still loose with pleasure—and eased her to the floor. She tried to straighten and rise, but Luke pulled her back down and kissed her temple. “Just watch,” he murmured. 

Pushing away the urge to join her in a heap on the floor, sinking into a warm, post-climax haze, he turned back to Thrawn, crossing the space between them in a few steps. Dropping to his knees, he let his head fall forward so that he could mouth at Thrawn’s cock through the thin fabric of his pants. Thrawn made a choked sound and dug his fingers into Luke’s hair, forcing Luke’s head up. Luke knew his cue. 

“Tascari, csan'r?” he asked. _May I, keeper?_

“Mar, tascari,” Thrawn replied. _Yes, you may._

The grip on his hair slackened. Luke slowed his movements, making a show of pulling down the black fabric of Thrawn’s pants and taking his cock into his mouth. He braced his hands on Thrawn’s hips, thumbs stroking along his hipbones. Long fingers stoked up his shoulder and wrapped around the back of his neck. Luke hummed contentedly around Thrawn’s shaft and felt the hand cupping the back of his head clench at the vibration, digging into his skin. 

“Mara.” Thrawn’s voice was a low growl. “K’ir dah veb?” _Are you watching, Mara?_

Luke heard Mara shifting around on the mats behind him, moving into a position that would please her keeper. He could visualize her sitting up on her knees, in a pose of attentive submission, face open and tilted upward. Thrawn could watch her from his position, or watch himself in the mirror getting sucked off, or the reflections of either of his companions through the glass, on their knees in front of him. 

Nothing anyone said about them mattered—not here. Here he could lose himself in the wet sound of his own mouth on his keeper’s shaft, in the low hum of arousal pulsing through him as he bobbed his head languidly back and forth under Thrawn’s guiding hands. He could feel Mara’s eyes on him, a reflection of that lust rippling back through the Force as she watched him bring Thrawn to his climax. 

Hands reached up to grip his head and hold him in place as Thrawn began to roll his hips, thrusting shallowly in and out of his mouth. Luke held still, letting his keeper take his pleasure. He breathed carefully through the onslaught as Thrawn’s control began to disintegrate, half-coherent words of praise in cheunh falling from his lips and his come spilling into Luke’s mouth, bitter on his tongue. He sucked greedily until Thrawn hissed and drew him off. 

“Good?” he asked, rocking back onto his heels. 

Thrawn raised an eyebrow at his impertinent grin. “It pleased me.” 

He stepped around Luke to where Mara was kneeling behind him. Luke craned his head around to watch as Thrawn offered Mara his hand, drawing her to her feet. The gesture was almost courtly, and Mara took his hand with equal grace and rose to her feet in a single smooth motion. His hand slid down her arm, thumb caressing the deep busies that were beginning to form on her skin. “Salve,” he said, “and a thorough rubdown.” She responded with a slow, feline smile. 

Luke turned toward them, shuffling on his knees until he was near enough that when Thrawn’s other hand drifted out, it brushed the top of his head. Luke leaned into the touch, letting his head sway to the side until it rested on Thrawn’s hip. Elegant fingers stroked through his hair; the touch gentle, soothing. 

The intense jealousy that had caught hold of him at the beginning of their play—and the anxieties it had provoked about losing Mara—had ebbed away to a distant ember. That hadn’t been like him, Luke thought, unnerved. It hadn’t been like him at all. 

He could still feel traces of it, hanging in the air like smoke. When he concentrated on the emotion, he could sense it drifting from Thrawn, his hand still wrapped proprietarily around Mara’s arm. _Spillover?_ It wasn’t the first time the edges between his emotions and others blurred in an intimate situation. 

Mara looked down at him, calm and satisfied, though he glimpsed something possessive in the way her gaze lingered on him. That feeling, a mirror to hers, flared again unexpectedly, hot and bright and selfish. Did it matter where it came from? He was theirs and they were _his._ He didn’t want to share Mara or Thrawn with anyone—not anymore. 

But did it even matter what he felt? He had no right to claim them. He had no right—

In his present state, distracted by doubts and lulled by the sense of contentment pouring off his lovers, he wasn’t shielding properly, and Mara sensed an echo of the agitation churning through his mind. She tilted her head down at him, her brow furrowing in question. Luke smiled up at her as if he had nothing more on his mind than returning to their rooms and picking up where they’d left off. The fingers in his hair slipped down, running provocatively around the edge of his ear and then along the line of his jaw. Twisting his head, he pressed a kiss into Thrawn’s palm. 

He had no right to claim them—but that wouldn’t stop him. No matter what anyone said—or what his father or Palpatine planned—he wasn’t going to let them go.  
  
  



End file.
